Ludwig's Journal: The Lost Days
by Dreamnorn
Summary: I woke up one day to find that I had no memories of my past. Not of my home, or family, or even just one person I used to know. I just hope that by writing in you, my new journal, I can somehow restore them... Rated T for future chapters.


_It's a common theory in the Hetalia fandom that the Holy Roman Empire lost his memory and became Germany, but I have yet to find a story that deals with Germany waking up to find that he has amnesia. I mean, seriously. This had to be done. Why haven't I thought of it before?_

_So there._

_This is my attempt at writing out in a first-person, journal format in Germany/HRE's perspective. The plot, although driven by my own, whacky mind, was partially inspired by a personal favorite book of mine, _Emily the Strange_. Enjoy._

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Amnesia Strikes

**This is most unusual.**

Something strange is going on, because I can't seem to recall anything about myself. My name, age, and location are all a blur. I have no idea where I live, how I got to where I am now, anything I've done since birth, why this happened to me, and how long this will last. I also don't know why there are some pages torn out from the front of this book.

However, I know (or at least I _hope_ I know) a few things about myself. For starters, I am male. My appearance is that of a human roughly in their late teens or early twenties. When I got up, the back of my neck had an odd pain. From what I can see of myself, I have been stripped of all clothes except for a thin, white shirt and blue shorts. Or underwear, I'm not sure. The only possessions I found on me are this book and a pen, and I'm capable of understanding both the English and German words on this book's cover. I'm writing this sentence with my right hand. Although I'm not sure of the specifics, I'm in a battlefield. I know this because there are people on either side of a trench with different uniforms and weapons.

I'm also the only one here who's alive.

So here I am, confused, hungry, and in pain, with absolutely no idea of what to do next. I should try and think of something soon. Hopefully if I continue to write in you, my new journal, I could possibly restore my former memory. If not, then I shall use the experiences and sensations I document as the basis to start a new life. Technically, amnesia gives me a clean slate. Starting fresh, I suppose.

Still, I feel like one of the things I'm forgetting is very important… hmm. I should dwell on this later. For now, I must come up with a plan.

_~ Später ~_

**Later – Same day.**

Spent a few hours looting some of the fallen bodies of soldiers and their tents while also searching for any signs of life. Or, at least, it felt like hours. I really have no means of telling time. On the latter matter, there has been no such luck; I'm all alone in this abandoned battleground. On the former, I understand that stealing is unethical, but it would be impractical for me to wander aimlessly without raw materials.

But you would be amazed what kind of intriguing things I've found in this particularly extravagant tent. None of them appear to be useful, but I figured I should bring them along with me. I believe I'll look more into them later.

Firstly, I found a black hat with a tall ridge, gold rims, and a circular clip. Though I have no recollection of hats to compare it to, I can easily imagine a man with much power wearing it. Considering the size and splendor of the tent I _found_ it in, this is probably a foregone conclusion.

Next, a broken piece of some kind of… thing… with rough bristles on a chunk of wood. The wood has burn marks all around it, and many of the bristles are singed. I have no idea what it is, but as insignificant as it might seem, I may find some use for it later. With a little polish and care, this might become useful for scrubbing things. Cleaning, perhaps.

Lastly—and perhaps most notably—a painting with a little girl in it. A brunette in a maid's outfit, peacefully slumbering in the sun. It doesn't spark any memories, but there's this captivating innocence about it that brings a smile to my face and hope to my heart. I don't know whether or not she's a real person or how old she may be now, but she may have been very important to someone, someone who probably didn't come out of the battle alive….

I think I'll keep it. For her. Whoever she may be.

Looking about other tents, I found some more—what's the word?—_necessary_ items. Frivolous things alone can't help me survive out here. At least, not until I can find some sort of civilization. I have a gut feeling that searching for other people who could possibly help me is the best thing I can do for myself. Perhaps there's someone who could find a cure for my amnesia (!) out there somewhere.

…Yes… survive. You see, I tried to raid the food supplies in the hopes for a meal, but all the meat and fruit on either side were spoiled. Some even had small mushrooms growing out of it or had taken root in the soil. I don't know if I'm a picky eater or not, but I highly doubt rotten goods would taste desirable. Therefore, I will attempt to find food and set up camp in the nearby woods. It was by a stroke of luck that I salvaged a guide to local (I hope) plant and animal life. There should be information in there on what's edible or not.

My hand is starting to wrench from the pain of writing, but before I put you aside, I should add something. You know the pain that was on the back of my neck earlier? When I ran my hand on the spot, I felt a bump. I'll consider this a lead as to why I lost my memory.

I'll write again this evening.

_~ Später ~_

**Good Lord.**

I am somehow capable of starting a fire, and yet pitching a tent seems to elude me. Fantastic.

To be perfectly honest, I'm not in the most optimistic of spirits right now. The fire is small, the night is cold, I have no shelter, and my common sense somehow failed to convince me to loot spare clothes. It was also probably a bad idea to leave the battleground in the first place. I mean, there weren't even any maps. I still have _no clue_ where I am. I'm growing more and more convinced I'll die in these accursed woods.

But, you know…

Things could be worse.

The guide came in handy and I had myself a dinner of sweet strawberries (called _"Erdbeere"_ in the book). And the fire, albeit little, is somewhat comforting.

But the nighttime sky is best of all. The moon is almost as brilliant as the sun, gleaming bright above my humble clearing. There are also those… err… floating white… pale things… they're kind of pretty too. Honestly, I can't remember what they're called. Or what they even _are,_ for that matter. Silver fireflies? I'm not sure. It doesn't matter, though. Either way, they're beautiful. Occasionally I find myself reaching out to touch them, to stroke their muted, icy ridges, but they're always out of reach…

How far are they?

Where do they come from?

And where do they go during the day?

…

Can I tell you a secret? As weird as it may sound, when I first discovered I had amnesia, I felt confident that—with methodical action—I could fix it and get my memory back. That I could possibly someday remember my house, my family, or maybe just one person I used to know.

Yet now, underneath this giant sky, I feel so… small. Insignificant. I'm just a man, a man who's alone without friends, memories, and hope beneath this unblinking, uncaring moon. Every step I take could be leading me farther from the home I may have had mere days ago.

I…

I'm scared.

As childish as it sounds, it's true.

What if someone is waiting for me and I have yet to return? _Mein Gott_, I haven't considered that before! Although… I should take comfort in the uncertain hope that someone somewhere could be missing me. Is wondering where I am. Right?

My confusion is only increasing in magnitude.

With luck, I'll get some rest tonight. Maybe in my dreams I'll get a sign of some sort, a sign of where I can head or who I can find. It's a fanciful thought, but I can hope. Tomorrow's a new day, after all. A new slate. A new road.

I vow to face it with confidence.

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_Writing from Germany/HRE's perspective proved to be harder than I thought. Writing in first-person was never an easy task for me, but this is just… ugh. I need an aspirin. My migraine brought upon me by school just became a million times worse._

_Comments? Feedback? Critique? Please PM or review! I always love to hear from my readers on what I'm doing right and what I'm doing not-so-right. If you catch any typos, too, I'd like to know. Me and my stupid grammar mistakes._


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